


With Honey

by badwolf



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jensen has had a rough go of it ok, Kidnapping, M/M, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, actual torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:54:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolf/pseuds/badwolf
Summary: Max surrounds himself with nothing but the best. It's a point of pride; he keeps only the strongest weapons, the newest tech. The best hacker...
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	With Honey

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the kinkmeme in response to [this prompt](https://thelosers-kink.livejournal.com/409.html?thread=163481#t163481)
> 
> Special shout out to [snowdarkred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowdarkred) for the beta.

Jake Jensen was a lover, not a fighter. Actually he was a talker but that didn’t sound as cool. Point was, he couldn’t fight for shit in the real world. Given some time and a basic internet connection, Jensen could topple governments, but in meatspace he could take care of himself about as well as a newborn kitten. Before Max came calling Jensen had never even fired a gun outside of a video game. 

After his recruitment, well. Jensen tried not to think about Max’s loyalty tests.

The first time Jensen voluntarily touched a gun, he had pried it from his dead bodyguard’s hand. If they had simply been assassins Jensen wouldn’t have lifted a finger to save himself, but Max had made sure Jensen understood how valuable he would be to any of Max’s numerous enemies. He had shown Jensen, made him watch, exactly what happens to genius hackers that get taken alive. 

So when his bodyguard dropped dead, a neat little hole in his forehead to match the hole in the front window, Jensen had hit the panic button he wore around his neck, grabbed the gun and made a run for the back. He didn’t make it far, slipping on the blood coating the kitchen floor and crashing down onto the body of another guard. 

A very large, very scary man with a badass scar on his face was crouched by the back door, pulling his also very large and very scary knife out of the last guard’s neck. The poor bastard was still gurgling. Jensen may have squeaked like a small dog at this point, but he will deny that to the grave. Before he could lose any more dignity an arm wrapped around Jensen from behind and pressed a wet cloth over his nose and mouth. Another strong arm wrapped around him, pulling him back into a wall of a man. Despite thrashing his hardest the rag stayed pinned to his face, each cloyingly sweet breath sending the world further away.

At first, Jensen had held out hope that this was just another of Max’s little mind fucks; kidnapping him just so Wade could ride in like a white knight and save him. Simply another exercise in Max showing just how well he controlled all aspects of Jensen’s existence. Or another test of some kind. That idea had lasted up until he saw just who had grabbed him. Jensen had seen the guy’s picture before, glimpsed it when Wade wasn’t quite fast enough flipping a file folder closed. When asked, Wade had simply said Jensen should hope to never find out. 

Jensen never thought the day would come when he would miss Max or look forward to seeing him again.

There were five of them, Jensen knew that much from when they kidnapped him -- though was it really kidnapping if he was already kidnapped when they grabbed him? So far he had only caught a glimpse of Bald Guy once, when he first clawed his way back to consciousness in the getaway van. The guy hadn’t looked happy to be there. That was all Jensen could notice before someone kicked him in the face and everything went black again. After that Jensen had woken up naked and secured to a metal chair bolted into the ground. When Mr. GQ Motherfucker opened the door to his cell Cowboy Hat stood off to the back and stared him down. 

So far there hadn’t been a face to face with either man. Given how utterly terrifying Cowboy Hat's gaze had been, Jensen counted this as a good thing. The same three people always cycled through for lovely ‘interrogation’ sessions. And it was just an interrogation. It wasn’t torture because it wasn’t anything worse than Jensen had gone through before. 

OK, so Psycho Bitch hooking up electrodes to his nads was a new experience that he hoped to never repeat but that didn’t matter. These guys weren’t even in the same league as Max when it came to how scared Jensen was of them or how much they could make him hurt. Not even close. None of it mattered, because all they could do was hurt him. But Max, Max could do so much more than these losers could even fathom. 

On the second day Jensen came close to losing it; when Scarface had started working him over, touching him and not shutting up about all the things he wanted to do. Even then that was nothing new. Jensen had been there, done that, and he had the hospital bill to prove it, all before he had ever heard the name Max. If he survived it once he could damn well make himself survive it again. All it took for Jensen to come back from the edge was the memory of Wade saying the same shit Scarface was saying, only then Wade had been jerking off to satellite surveillance feed of Jensen’s sister at a Petunias game. That had been the last time Jensen hijacked a satellite to check in on her. Jensen ended up telling Scarface the title of every Star Trek episode in order that it aired. He made it all the way through the original series before getting a knife in the meat of his thigh.

Later, when Mr. GQ Motherfucker had pulled the plastic bag tight over his head Jensen had hoped this was really it; this was when they killed him. Cause if someone else killed him then Jensen wasn’t breaking Max’s rules, not really, and then his family would be safe. They didn’t even know who Max was; as far as his sister was concerned Jensen worked for the government. And Jensen had enough stashed away in a Swiss account with her name on it to make sure she was OK. God, he hoped she would be OK. 

But Jensen wasn’t that lucky. The bag was pulled off his head just as he started blacking out. By the time Jensen’s vision cleared Mr. GQ was gone; Jensen hadn’t even heard him leave over the sound of his own wheezing. In Mr. GQ’s place stood Cowboy Hat. Jensen doubted the man’s appearance was a good omen. The guy simply stood there looking Jensen over, sizing him up. 

Jensen couldn’t suppress the flinch when Cowboy Hat reached over and touched his face, right below where Psycho Bitch’s knuckle dusters had split skin. It was more of a caress than anything else. Cowboy Hat just stood there looking at him and touching his cheek for a long moment. Jensen wondered if he was here to follow through on Scarface’s threats. Without another word, the man turned on his heels and walked out of Jensen’s field of vision. A small click was the only warning Jensen got before being pitched forward out his chair. Without the cuffs’ linking his hands through the back of the chair Jensen was helpless against gravity, the slight angling of the chair was all it took for him to slump forward onto the ground. 

After being tied to a chair for two days, two goddamn days, Jensen was ready to admit he was royally screwed and in no shape to fend for himself. His legs and arms had gone numb from not being able to move a muscle, while the spotlight they had shone right in his face ensured Jensen couldn’t even think about sleep. Not that he would have slept anyways, since the room was a touch above hypothermia inducing and the cold made every little pain all that much clearer. 

The sudden movement sent most of Jensen’s body into a frenzy of cramps and needles. All Jensen could do was occasionally twitch and mew in pain while Cowboy Hat carried him over to a ratty mattress in the far corner of the room. Being tossed around and dropped onto the mattress caused Jensen to upgrade from mewing to outright screaming. None of his limbs responded more than a simple twitch, panic and bad memories losing out to exhaustion and hunger. 

Jensen lost time for a bit, floating in a haze of pain and half-consciousness. Soft singing slowly brought him back around. It sounded like a lullaby of some kind, only Jensen didn’t know Spanish so for all he knew Cowboy Hat was detailing all the painful ways Jensen was going to die after they got what they wanted from him. It sounded nice though, regardless of what it might mean. Cowboy Hat pulled a warm washcloth from a bucket half full of water that Jensen hadn’t noticed before and gently started wiping at the blood and sweat sticking to his face. His other hand was threading through Jensen’s hair, petting and calming Jensen despite himself.

It felt nice, but Jensen knew it was a trick. Cowboy Hat was just playing good cop to everyone else’s psycho cop. Jensen had lost track of how long it had been since he had been touched like this, touched without pain or terror following right on its heels. God, it felt good. 

Long fingers traced through his hair to the nape of Jensen’s neck, cupping and supporting as Cowboy Hat brought a bottle of water up for Jensen to drink. The water tasted slightly off. It was probably drugged, something to help loosen Jensen’s tongue and make him more pliable. At this point, he just didn’t care. Jensen knew it took only a few days without water to kill, he had seen it happen before and was in no hurry to go out that way. If Cowboy Hat hadn’t pulled the bottle away Jensen would have drunk the whole bottle down, even knowing it was too much too soon and would make him sick. 

“Why are you protecting him?” Cowboy Hat’s voice was softer than Jensen expected, gentler. “You know he will kill you as soon as you stop being useful.” 

Jensen didn’t even bother to glare. Of course he knew that. Only an idiot could know Max like Jensen does and think he would even hesitate to kill him the first moment it became more convenient. Jensen knows he is already dead; that he died the moment Max picked him to be his brain trust. He felt it as soon as he opened his apartment door and found Wade sitting at his table, a file of pictures with sniper scopes on them splayed out over the cheap wood. When he had followed Wade from his apartment and into the van parked down the street and didn’t protest the bag shoved over his head. For Jensen, self-preservation had nothing to do with this.

“He is going to kill you. All of you.” Jensen didn’t even know why he said it. Maybe he was trying to provoke the man, move things along towards hurty time and away from this tenderness that was throwing him off balance. Maybe the drugs that might have been in the water were just making him more talkative. 

“Maybe,” Cowboy Hat nodded like he knew that was the most likely outcome and was at peace with it. “Or maybe we will kill him.” Jensen refused to acknowledge the small swell of hope that made him feel. No one could kill Max; it just wasn't possible.

“Do you think if you hold out long enough he will come riding in here and save you?” That was exactly what Jensen thought and man did it sound lame when said out loud like that. It made Jensen feel like some damsel in distress. 

“How do you know he is coming at all? He might think you ran, that you killed your bodyguards and went to ground?” 

No, no, there was no way. Jensen had been fucking perfect, had been a model prisoner for three years. Why would he run now, when he had never even so much as tugged at his leash before? He wouldn’t run, not with his family at stake. There was no way Max could think that.  
God, please don’t let Max think that. 

Cowboy Hat started murmuring in Spanish again, low and soothing. It took Jensen a minute to realize he had been shaking his head, jerking from side to side, and crying. A long silence followed as Jensen tried and failed to get himself closer to some semblance of control. And it might just have been some Stockholm bullshit, but Jensen needed this right now. He needed this comfort; desperate for anything that wasn’t more fear and more pain, so touch-starved it was hitting him better than any of Max’s opiates. 

If Max didn’t save him soon this was going to break him. Jensen knew it in the marrow of his bones. He was going to crack apart at the seams, open his brain up for a couple of pats on the head, and for all his genius Jensen couldn’t think of a single way to stop it.

Fuck, he hoped Max got here soon.


End file.
